Collusions
by noneko
Summary: The story of Peragus before the Exile woke up. The tale of all parties involved, especially a man with a lust for money that would eventually lead to his downfall. Chapter 2. 915
1. Inception

Disclaimer: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II and all of it's planets and character are owned by LucasArts and Obsidian Entertainment. I will be using quite of bit of in game dialogue in this story, which will be marked in _italics_. In short: It ain't mine. Thanks for letting me borrow it.

* * *

**Collusions **

**Chapter One: Inception**

The docking official stood nervously in front of the hanger bay door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like an anxious child. He glanced sideways at the man standing next to him, trying to draw his gaze. The man stood solemnly, his stance militaristic, and he made no indication that the dock officer even existed. Finally, the official looked away and sighed loudly.

It had been nearly two hours since an unknown freighter had requested permission to dock at Peragus II, and he had been waiting here for nearly that amount of time. It wouldn't have been so bad if the Peragian Security Council hadn't decided to send a taskforce down to meet the ship. The members of the squad were notorious for being about as cheerful as the dead, and the silence that filled the area did nothing to counter that claim.

Unknown ships were often viewed with suspicion, but there had been no need to send down an entire unit. The official quietly nudged his silent neighbor and whispered,

"When do you think they'll get here, Tarel? If they have the astrogation charts, it shouldn't be taking them this long."

Tarel turned to look at him, irritation showing in his eyes. He waved his hand and answered offhandedly,

"Well, our sensors registered a space battle close to this sector. If this ship was involved, it'll probably have taken some damage. It takes time to limp into port."

"Ah." The official nodded, and Tarel went back to staring at the metal walls. The official looked around again, his gaze resting on each and every member of the squad. Stillness filled the room again, and even his breathing seemed unnaturally loud. If the ship didn't arrive soon, he decided, he was going to go insane.

* * *

There was never a lot of free time when you worked at the Peragus Mining facility: Coorta had come to terms with this long ago. Normally, one drink and a few hours of sleep was all one could manage before the next shift began. Work on the shelf for a few hours, toss down a couple ration bars while the foreman wasn't looking, then back to the station for the beginning of the cycle again. 

It wasn't a great life, but it was better then other things he could be doing. And when he was one of the larger, more intimidating members of the workforce, well, that made it all the better. There were things he could get away with that someone else couldn't.

Like calling in for extra workers when the shelf was slow, and asking for that extra detonator when supplies were low.

And it helped him learn things that he wouldn't have otherwise known. Like where the underbelly of the Facility was; where betting and black market trading was as commonplace as the pieces of Peragus II that floated past the barrack's windows. Growing up in the slums in an Outer Rim world had shown him that the only way to survive was outside of the law.

He was at home there, with the spice addicts struggling to hide their afflictions, and the ex-Exchange enforcers looking to make a quick credit. He made connections, contacts, acquaintances… but never friends. Friends were an unnecessary risk.

After all, they could betray you, without warning, at any moment. The nice thing about the people Coorta surrounded himself with was that he could trust them to be dishonest. That way, he always knew to watch his back.

He could have had a different job. He could have been something other then a lowly miner, ordered to put his life on the line for a few shipments of fuel. But the truth was, he didn't really mind. He had a nice set-up on Peragus, and it would have to take a great deal of money to persuade him to leave.

* * *

Security Lieutenant Jedo Tarel strode through the passages of the freighter, scanning for any sign of life. The ship has taken its share of damage, with the telltale signs of carbon scouring and vibroblade slashes dotting the inner walls. A good chunk of the ship was simply gone, a testament to a battle gone ill. He slowly turned over a large piece of metal he had found in the rubble and ruefully tossed it aside. 

It would cost a small fortune to repair the ship, and he was not looking forward to having to collect the payment from the occupants. If they were even alive.

Tarel continued down the corridor until he reached what he guessed to be the main room. The lights were flickering on and off, and he couldn't really tell where he was going. He took a step forward and nearly tripped over something soft. Stifling a string of curses, he flipped on his light and searched the area near his feet.

The beam shone on the form of a robed woman who lay crumpled on the ground, surrounded by several broken droids.

He quickly called out to the medical officer who stood a few lengths behind him and slowly removed the woman's hood, revealing an aged face. The medical officer pushed her way through the debris and was almost instantly as Tarel's side, her dark hands already feeling along the woman's neck for a pulse. After a few moments, she looked up at Tarel wearily.

"Get someone to take this woman to med bay and check her for life signs." She ordered curtly, and Tarel nodded.

As he ordered the remaining personnel to carry the woman out, the medical officer disappeared into the hallway leading away from the cockpit. After making sure the old woman was taken care of, Tarel stood up and followed her.

On the way there he nearly tripped over a deactivated utility droid. This time he was not able to control his mouth, and he swore loudly, pushing the droid aside with his leg. He caught up with the medical officer as she turned into the ship's med bay and stopped, eyes widening in shock. She turned towards Tarel and motioned towards the lone medical bed.

A young woman lay on it, as still as death. Cuts from shrapnel dotted her body, and several long cuts ran down her arms, flecked with dried blood. Tarel looked back at the medical officer and met her gaze. The officer nodded, then dug into her medical pouch. Pulling out a medpac, she jabbed it into the woman with the practiced tension of an expert. Tarel reached for his comlink and roughly switched it on.

"Tarel to Med Bay. We have a survivor."

* * *

_"Only one survivor, placed in the kolto tank for recovery. The carbon scoring on the vessel suggests it was in a battle, but no indication of who fired on it..."_

The medical officer leaned towards the woman floating in the kolto tank and grimaced, dark hair falling into her eyes. It had been nearly half a day since the patient had been brought up to med bay, and she still showed no signs of coming round. The officer turned to the computer terminal that sat next to her and continued to report.

_"Aside from the lone survivor, we recovered an old woman, no life signs. There was also a protocol droid and a utility droid on board - sent both down to maintenance while security sorts through the other items on the ship."_

She sighed, and quickly brought up the medical history of the patient. The patient's body was tinted a sickly yellow, an effect of the kolto, but the cuts on her skin were knitting up at an amazing rate, leaving new pink flesh behind. The woman was healing extraordinarily fast, and although the officer was relieved that the wounds hadn't been life threatening, she had her suspicions.

"_She could be a Jedi, but we won't know for sure until we get the transmission back from the Republic. If the survivor is a Jedi, that would account for the recovery rate... but I'm more concerned that a Jedi here may cause trouble, some of the miners are already starting to argue about what to do with her."_

With another sigh, she shut off the holorecorder. The computer terminal returned to displaying the patient's life signs, beeping regularly. The officer took one last long look at the woman floating in the tank, then quickly turned around and left her.

* * *

The maintenance room was empty, devoid of both life and sound. Dim lights flickered on and off, illuminating the deactivated mining droids placed around the room with an eerie glow.

Footsteps sounded outside the large sliding doors; the security officer making his final rounds of the night. Then the noises faded away, and silence stretched throughout the room.

Suddenly, the noise of whirring machinery sounded, unnaturally loud in the darkened room. The pounding of heavier footsteps started to reverberate against the metal walls. Then, two glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness, taking in their surroundings with a cold, practiced glance. A chilling voice emerged from the depths of the shadows.

"Statement: All systems operational."

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**Author's Note**: This is a rough version of an idea I've been bouncing around for a while. I know it's rough, so if there are any grammer or fact errors, please let me know. Like it? Tell me. Hate it? Tell me how I can improve. Don't have any feelings either way? Tell me what you want to see happening, or just say hello. I would really appreciate it. And yeah, I know the grammer is weird. It's just my writing style. Love it or hate it. 


	2. Dubiety

**Collusions **

**Chapter Two: Dubiety

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**

Maintenance Officer Arten Talran was good at his job. That was why, out of all the maintenance workers on the Peragus Mining Facility, he was the only one who was given his own working station, in the lower levels of the facility. And that was why, as the best mechanic available, he was assigned the most difficult tasks. 

Which was why he was at his station, early in the morning, while all the other officers were asleep, staring at the T3 unit that had been unceremoniously deposited in front of his door the night before.

Talran sighed and picked up a hydrospanner, adroitly plugging the droid into the power supply. _Time to get to work,_ he thought tiredly.

His first thought was that the droid's chassis had seen better days. It was still a relatively new droid, about nine or ten years old at the most. Talran made a mental note of that, then continued to explore. There was something odd about the memory banks… but Tarel ignored it for the moment, continuing to check the circuitry and wiring. He ticked off points on his mental checklist, paying more attention to the whirring of the fans over his head then the droid at his fingertips.

This was nothing new, this was routine, this was – boring, one might say.

For one as good at his job as Arten Talran, dissecting utility droids was not the most glamorous of tasks. And when he could have been out drinking, or sleeping, or doing _anything_, really, he couldn't be expected to concentrate fully on his work.

So he didn't notice when the droid's deactivated eye flashed with a barely imperceptible light, or when the quietest of beeps echoed within the droids opened shell. And he certainly didn't notice when the droid slowly twisted its head around and began to whir softly, slowly but surely hacking into the mining facilities' mainframe. After all, it was early, and this was routine. He couldn't be expected to concentrate.

* * *

There was a time when Coorta didn't care about what happened around him. There was a time when he had kept away from things that didn't concern him, leaving well enough alone. 

But that time was gone, and had been for a long time. So he tried to keep tabs on everyone and everything in the mining facility, whether it involved him or not.

And when an unregistered freighter arrived, carting nothing but the dead, well, that was something he _had_ to know about. And it infuriated him that he had learned nothing. The security force was being infuriatingly tight-lipped about the entire thing, and none of his contacts could dredge up any information. So, of course, it meant it was high security, top-secret, all that bureaucratic code worded garbage.

Of course, he could wait a couple of weeks to find out what the big secret was. Information flowed through the station like juma through a cantina; in abundance and about three weeks past expiration. Sooner or later, someone would let something slip.

But he didn't want to wait.

* * *

"Morning, Arten." 

Arten Talran glared at the speaker through bleary eyes. "What do you want, Coorta?"

Coorta raised his eyebrows, leaning casually against the wall. "Don't be so hostile. You look tired."

Talran sighed heavily. "It was an early morning. I had to go take a look at those droids that came in with the freighter. What do you want?"

Coorta grinned and shook his head. "You know me too well, Arten. I want information." He moved slowly towards the maintenance officer, reminding Talran of a dewback, or a rancor, or of some other not-very subtle animal.

It was early, and he was tired. He couldn't think of a better way to describe it.

Coorta continued, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"I want to know about that ship. What's all the secrecy about?"

Talran blinked. "What? What secrecy? What are you talking about?"

Coorta clenched his jaw and hissed in frustration. "Damnit, Talran, you know what I'm talking about! What doesn't the Administration want us to know?"

Talran ran his hand through his hair exasperatedly, letting his fingers run over the welding goggles he always wore. It was a comforting feeling, one that helped him calm down whenever he got annoyed or confused. "Coorta, I don't know what you're talking about. The only thing I know about that ship is that the droids that came with it were beat up pretty badly."

Coorta's expression remained incredulous, and Talran sighed. Obviously, Coorta wasn't going to believe him. "Look, I'm going up to the mess hall. I don't have time for this." He slid past Coorta and started to walk away, calling back, "If the bosses up-deck say it's secret, then it's secret. No use poking your nose in anywhere it doesn't belong."

Coorta watched Talran go, frustration and curiosity building up in his chest like an impending storm. He clenched his fist, letting his nails sink into his skin. Tomorrow, there would be tell-tale red welts on his palm, jostling for space with calluses and palm lines. The pain helped take his mind off of how badly he wanted to throttle Maintenance Officer Arten Talran.

He wasn't sure if that man was lying, but all his instincts screamed that Talran was. And he wouldn't have gotten where he was today without listening to his instincts.

Coorta looked up at the glowing signs that lit the hallways of the mining facility. He still had a few more stops to make. And he had the perfect cover story for the next one, too.

* * *

"Coorta, you can't come in here, this is a restricted area!" Dr. Essia Antell rushed towards the open door, annoyance evident on her face. Coorta's eyes drifted over the room, coming to rest of the woman in the kolto tank. He stared at her curiously for a moment, ignoring the protests of the medical officer. Finally, he turned to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Who's that, Essia?"

The medical officer frowned and avoided the question. "The name's Dr. Antell. Why are you here, Coorta? You know you're not allowed!"

Coorta stared off towards the tanks again, and the Essia put her hands on her hips and sent him the most withering glare she could possibly manage. That brought Coorta out of his thoughts as he glared indignantly back.

"Yen got injured. I wanted to see how he was doing." He jerked his thumb back towards the tanks. "Who's that?" Essia sighed, and looked away. Her answer came softly, and Coorta had to lean in to hear her properly.

"She was on that freighter that docked. Only survivor." Coorta raised his eyebrows. The woman floating in the tank certainly didn't look very strong, and he doubted she would have lasted against the type of opponents that had nearly destroyed the ship.

"Really? How'd she make it?" Essia answered without thinking, still lost in thought.

"Well, she healed quite quickly. And it helps that she's-" she stopped talking, and shot Coorta a suspicious glance. He perked up, his interest piqued.

"And what?" The officer turned sharply to the computer terminal and tapped a few buttons.

"I'll clear you to see Yen."

"What is she? And what?" Coorta persisted.

"And nothing. Here's your clearance. He's in the back room." She nearly shoved the datapad into his hands as soon as it finished transmitting the clearance. Coorta stood stubbornly in front of her for a moment, suspicion entering his gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as Dr. Antell's fiery glare returned to land on him. Coorta made a beeline for the door, letting it slide closed behind him, his brain working furiously.

Something funny was going on, and it involved that woman in the kolto tank. Maintenance Officer Talran was in on it, no matter what he said, and so was Dr. Antell. That meant the Administration knew about whatever was happening, and by association, the Security staff. Coorta let himself smile for a moment, slapping the datapad against his hand.

He let himself think of possible answers to his questions. Maybe the woman was a republic scout, or a soldier. Maybe she was a smuggler, or a wanted criminal. Whatever it was, it was important enough to leave the regular workers like him out of the loop.

He didn't like being left out of the loop. And, incidentally, Security Lieutenant Jedo Tarel couldn't hold his juma, or his tongue when drunk, if his life depended on it.

All thoughts of Yen and clearance chased from his mind, Coorta sat down on a medical container and began to plan.

If there was a big hidden conspiracy going on, he would find out about it soon enough.

He would bet his life on it.

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**Author's Note:** Whew! Finally a second chapter! Ironically, it's only after school has started that I've been able to add the stuff to the first chapter, and finish this one. Funny, huh? Well, I'm not too pleased with the chapter, but I think it turned out alright. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to string everything together, but I'll manage. And, once again, if you like it, hate it, or don't care, please be kind and review. It makes me happy! And happy authors are more productive, or so I've been told. And to the reviewers who reviewed the first chapter: Thanks! You're awesome!  



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